From a Child's Eyes
by ProngsletIsMyHero73180
Summary: Brock's impression of the last two years. Nothing graphic, but mentions of death. Post-Granite State, Pre-Felina.


The new house was big and strange, but Brock decided he liked it. His mom even let him pick out paint for his new room, and she only made a face at his immediate choice of red. Red like Superman's cape, he explained eagerly, and to his surprise and delight, she sighed but shrugged, and let him have his red room. He even got to paint a bit all by himself.

He changed schools, which was hard, because he had to say goodbye to his Best Friends in the World. He felt shy that first day of class, and he spent recess playing his Gameboy instead of playing with the other kids. But after a couple of days, he made friends with Joey at lunch, and then Miguel, and eventually he couldn't even remember those first few days – it was like he'd always been right here, in this big, strange new house and this big, strange new school in this big, strange new neighborhood.

Still, he missed seeing Grandma as often as before. And Tomas. He hadn't seen him all that much, but he'd liked him. Tomas played games with him, and did tricks with fireworks. Tomas would put him in a headlock and tackle him to the floor, and Brock was sure one day he'd be able to win. Or, he would've. But Tomas was gone now, his mom explained, looking sad, and Brock wouldn't see him again for a long time. It made Brock sad, too.

He also missed Jesse, who did science tricks, like with the water and the straw. Jesse had even promised to help him in the science fair – he'd joked about not doing it in his bathtub, which Brock found strange. But Jesse never came around anymore. His friend did, though. But Mr. Goodman wasn't nearly as fun – he always left real quick, and he hopped from foot-to-foot while he was there, like a scared bunny rabbit. His friend Joey had a bunny rabbit named Thumper who never stopped hopping either.

Brock watched Spiderman for the first time, and down went the Superman action figures his mom had bought him after they moved. Miguel showed him the Spiderman comics, and Brock was immediately fascinated. He loved the fights – Spiderman saving the day from the villains who wanted to take over and hurt people. Swooping in on his webs and kicking their butts.

He skipped the scenes with that stupid Gwen girl, though.

Jesse came back a little later, and they started staying at his house a lot. Brock didn't mind, since Jesse had all the best videogames and he was always willing to play with him. Even better, his mom was happy again. It was great, except that sometimes Jesse's friends would come by, and things would get weird. This one time, Jesse seemed really angry about it, and he shoved his friend out the door. He wondered if they were fighting, like he fought with Joey last week, when Joey called him stupid and he called him a butthead.

Brock didn't remember much of that next week. He just remembered feeling really, really awful, and his mom crying. There was a lot of throwing up, and rushing around, and then he was in the hospital, and his mom was petting his hair with tears in her eyes. Grandma and Jesse were there too, but Grandma must have been angry with Jesse about something because she kept giving him the same dark looks she gave Brock when she caught him in a lie. He woke up to his mom and Jesse arguing one time, before they let him go home. They were talking about rice. It made him hungry, and he wondered when he'd be allowed to eat something besides soup again before he fell back to sleep.

Their neighbor, Miss Sarah, brought him cookies when he came back home. They were really good, and he could've eaten them all, but his mom only let him take two. He was happy, though, to be back in his red room.

Brock had a crisis after that when he decided Batman was the coolest superhero of them all. His mom wouldn't let him paint his room black, despite his attempts to explain that he needed a bat cave, and no self-respecting bat would live in a red room. Jesse understood, though – he and Brock would talk about superheroes for over an hour, sometimes, his mom listening and shaking her head with a half-smile. Jesse drew him a picture of Batman saving a pretty woman from the evil Joker, and Brock thought he'd never seen anything cooler – he wished he could draw like that. Jesse never laughed at his attempts, though. He even hung one up on his fridge.

But it didn't last. Jesse went away again, and Brock tried to figure out how he'd made him mad. Was it because he'd forced Jesse to be Robyn when they played Gotham? He'd be mad too if he got stuck being Robyn, he supposed. He decided he would apologize the next time Jesse came around.

Jesse didn't come around. A friend of his did, though, and Brock didn't like him at all. He was anxious and fidgety, and Brock thought Jesse needed better friends.

His mom tucked him into bed, kissing his forehead, and Brock wondered why she seemed sad again.

He woke up the next morning to a scream.

Miss Sarah put her hands over his eyes and turned him away, pushing him back inside, like she could undo the last few moments that way. She called out something to another neighbor. She took Brock back to his room, told him to stay, ran to the phone, cried into the line about a woman, a woman's been shot…

Brock sat in his room, surrounded by superheroes, and all he saw was red.

…

He was with his Grandma, and his room was white. He liked it better that way. All his action figures were gone. His Batman pajamas, he refused to wear anymore. All his comics, his Grandma had stored in the attic.

He went back to his old school. He wondered, when he saw his old friends, if it had all been a dream. Maybe he'd never really left at all. Maybe his mom would pick him up from school today instead of Grandma. Maybe Tomas would stop by for dinner tonight.

But his mother was buried in black that week. And he'd never hated a color more.

...

A/N: I am so sorry for writing this. I have no idea what the point of it is – I don't even think there is a point. I was just so depressed about what happened to Andrea, and what's going to happen to Brock, that I needed to write something as an outlet. Maybe someone else is as depressed as me right now? I mean, seriously, poor Brock. I can't even.


End file.
